love you to the stars and back - Hongbae oneshot book

present

[Part 1: a starlit river, wind whispering into dark strands of hair, and the frightening (read: unfamiliar) concept of a happy ending]

——————————

Waves roll against the wood in a slow rhythm that accompanies the lofi beats in Hoyoung's left ear. Low chatter floods into his other. It's all swept all away when Minchan drags out a long sigh of awe.

He is holding his phone in his hands, capturing the glowing city lights in the river's endlessly deep mirror of the world. Seoul is bright and busy at night, and they have been stuck in traffic for almost an hour on their drive here, nothing new, nothing unexpected; Han River is remarkably solemn in comparison, almost like somebody has placed earmuffs around his head, allowing him to breathe somewhat clean air under a sky that has surrendered its colors to a constant filter of gray.

Hoyoung blames Yeonho for spamming the group chat during his trip in Germany. If it wasn't for the photos taken directly from what looks like a fairy tale forest, shining in such a satiation that Hoyoung had refused to believe for the longest time that they weren't edited, he might have never noticed just how polluted Seoul's atmosphere actually is.

The lanky man blocking the way to the bridge informs them that boarding will start in three minutes. Behind him, the lights of the cruise radiate a soft golden glow.

Minchan huffs and slides his phone back into his back pocket. "Y'know, if this whole thing is like only twenty minutes long, I'm getting a refund. These prices were coming straight from hell's V.I.P corner."

"Is that also where your boss will be in twenty years?"

"If not, somebody is kicking his eighteenth-century ass so hard he'll just ragdoll down." He rolls his eyes.

A little laugh escapes Hoyoung. Imagining Minchan's homophobic and sexist lump of a boss rotting in hell is one thing, but thinking about the way Minchan being the one to put him there is another. "Please, you have no coordination. I'd have to drag you out before you even land the first blow."

"Fair enough." He shrugs, and his dark curls fall into his face. The soft wind picks them up and tucks them back before Hoyoung can. "I'll just animate such a mind-blowing trailer of him in hell that one day some film industry giant picks it up and adapts it into live action."

If he had even half the amount of spite that Hoyoung has, he would actually see this plan through. Hoyoung would be lying if he said he isn't a little bit bummed out about this idea never coming to life.

"I'd watch the crap out of it," he still says, just in case.

A grin splits Minchan's face.

Hoyoung returns it, and it feels earnest in a way that he still finds difficult to accept. Not because he doesn't want to. He isn't even scared, as he might would have been some years ago, if he wasn't so unshakably sure that Minchan couldn't hurt him, or anyone for that matter, if he tried.

It's just a bit unfamiliar, he guesses. A bit unbelievable that he can be happy with someone who is not his reflection in the small bathroom mirror back in his parents' house.

Sometimes, in his coldest winter dreams, he remembers the part of his life when he used to have no one but himself.

It still hurts when he thinks about the bullying. He hasn't seen these people in a long, long while, and yet they still have a ghostly grip on him, haunt his life everywhere he goes.

It hurts when Gyehyeon scoffs at something he says even when he knows Gyehyeon would scoff at literal angels if they flew down to Earth to serenade him in person.